Falling From Grace
by EmmyElizabeth403
Summary: There was so much more to their story, so much that nobody else ever knew. Unfortunately, Jason Grace seemed to have forgotten this.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I'm not really sure where this is going yet, and I've never done a Jeyna fic before, but I just wanted to try it after reading MoA and rolling my eyes at how desperate for love Rick managed to make Reyna seem. Anyway, I would really appreciate it if y'all would review, hopefully without being too hard on me. Thanks! -Emmy**

**Disclaimer: Well, I think we all know that I don't own Percy Jackson, Heroes of Olympus, or any related material. If I did, then I wouldn't be writing fanfiction, now would I? On with the show...**

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1. Somebody that I used to know

_Reyna knew a million things about Jason Grace._

She knew that he always said a prayer to his father and to her mother before going into battle. She knew that he loved Skittles, but couldn't stand M&M's. She knew that he liked the smell of wet pavement after a good rain. She knew that he had terrible nightmares all too often, and that he never got any sleep for the rest of night after he woke up from one. She knew that he always tried to hide it the next day.

Reyna knew a million things about Jason Grace that nobody else would ever know. He was her best friend and co-praetor, her confidant and fellow soldier of Rome. Reyna knew things that he would never admit to anyone else in a million years, things whispered during a long night of sleeplessness, in the hours of seemingly endless darkness before the sun finally rose over New Rome and Camp Jupiter.

Reyna knew that they both lived for those sunrises.

Reyna knew all too well the way his blue eyes sparked with electricity when he got angry. She knew how the same beautiful eyes lit up when he smiled, and how he ran his hand through his perfectly tousled golden hair when he was frustrated. She knew that he would die for her, and that she would do the same for him without a second thought.

She knew Jason Grace.

She knew him, probably better than she knew herself.

So why, after six months of being apart, did it seem as though she had never known the boy standing in front of her at all?


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: Like I said before, I'm not really sure where this is going, and so I'm sorry if it's confusing. But you know, reviews would help sooo much! (hint hint) Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes of Olympus.**

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2. What happened to us?

_She was his best friend._

This realization hit him as he stood rooted to the spot, staring at Reyna. He had thought that his memory had completely returned, but quite obviously, there remained a few gaps.

He just couldn't believe that he had forgotten that.

"Jason?" Piper's concerned voice brought him back to reality like a bucket of ice water. "Jason, are you alright?"

For some reason, the caring hand she placed on his arm made him feel slightly guilty. Glancing back at Reyna, who was looking at him and Piper with an unreadable expression on her stoic face, he gave Piper a slightly forced smile.

"Yeah, Pipes. I'm fine. Just… glad to be home," he told her, immediately regretting his choice of words as he saw Piper wince. She was scared of losing him to his old life, he knew. For months, back at the Greek camp, he had reassured her, telling her that everybody at Camp Half-Blood was as much his family as the Romans. The problem was that now, as he looked around the beautiful streets of New Rome, he was realizing just how much he had missed this place.

Not to mention _her._

They were all gathered in the forum, subject to that which Romans did best, after warfare: partying. Reyna had, of course, ordered that a feast be prepared in honor of their arrival. This was the legendary hospitality of Romans—that which was offered to friends, at least. To enemies, well… Jason was just glad that Reyna had rolled out the proverbial welcome wagon instead of the war chariots.

Looking over at her again, he noticed for the first time how tired she seemed. Nobody else would have even registered that fact, Jason guessed, as she always carried herself with such strength and quiet grace, but Jason knew Reyna. Her face, beautiful and stone cold as ever, was somehow more worn than it had been six months ago, and her dark, proud eyes told a story far beyond their years. He realized how hard it must have been for her all these months, not knowing where he was or even if he was alive, fending off Octavian, trying to hold together a city and shouldering the responsibilities of a two-person job all on her own.

It was no surprise that she was tired. He didn't blame her.

More and more memories were rushing in and out of sharp focus in his mind, memories that he silently cursed Juno for taking away from him in the first place, memories that were too wonderful to forget. And yet, he _had _forgotten.

And every single one of them had something in common.

He saw a warm summer's afternoon by the lake, before he had been elected praetor; a quiet discussion with a friend, which had quickly turned into an argument, under the shade of a willow tree. He remembered an early morning jog that he been forced into, dragged out of bed before dawn just because _someone _had apparently thought his discipline was lacking; it wasn't until the sun began to paint the sky with its warm pinks and oranges that he realized what a perfect idea it had been. There was a peaceful winter's night around Christmas time, just a few weeks before Juno sent him to the Greeks; a roaring fire, mugs of New Rome's finest hot chocolate, a large pile of papers going as yet unsigned, and lots of laughter.

Yes, he could easily tell what the common thread in all of these memories was.

They were all his favorite memories of _her, _memories that defined the very essence of their friendship.

For some reason that he couldn't began to fathom, Jason's complete memories of Reyna had been held back from him, as a kind of sick godly joke, perhaps.

And now, everything was so much more complicated.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This is really short, but I figured that I really needed to represent Reyna better than I did in the first couple chapters, because re-reading it, she seemed terribly out of character to me. So this is my attempt at doing Reyna's personality some justice, something other than the cold, emotionless Reyna that a lot of people like writing and the annoyingly needy Reyna that still others write. Please tell me what you think! -Emmy**

**Update 10-14-12: Re-edited. Thanks to Immortalli for pointing out my little grammar mistake. I'm a perfectionist when it comes to my writing, so I had to fix it... **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes of Olympus. **

3. A Matter of Pride

_Reyna couldn't take this anymore. _

She really couldn't. She had endured watching Jason and his pretty little Greek daughter of Venus—or _Aphrodite, _rather—for almost an hour while the group discussed matters in the Forum; which was, in her opinion, about an hour too long.

Of course, she could hardly just get up and leave. She was praetor of New Rome, not to mention a Roman soldier, which meant that the normal rules flew straight out the window.

This was a matter of pride.

She glanced down at her tattoo; the Roman SPQR, then her mother's emblem, the crossed sword and torch, and the four marks representing her four years in the legion. The tattoo reminded Reyna of who she was, where she had come from, what she had achieved. It reminded her that she was not weak.

She was the daughter of Bellona, and the sister of Queen Hylla of the Amazons. She was Praetor Reyna, leader of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata.

She was a Roman; a warrior.

Reyna was not someone that would let herself be made a fool of by some daughter of Venus—a _Greek, _no less.

And Reyna would not let herself be controlled by Jason Grace.

So she sat up a little straighter, held her head up a little higher.

And after all of this, Reyna couldn't bring herself to acknowledge the fact that no matter how she acted, how she looked, how she talked, deep down, she still missed him—if only just a little.


End file.
